Shermaine was almost never wrong when it came to diagnoses. If anything, she trusted her instincts far more than a plastic stick. The test could easily be faulty. After all, it was too early. Pregnancies under six weeks often slipped past home kits.

A proper medical check-up with specialized equipment would be the only reliable way to confirm.

Still, she felt a flicker of disappointment. She had imagined surprising Joshua tonight if the test had come back positive. At thirty-two, he was more than ready for fatherhood. In fact, he’d be turning thirty-three soon.

In the bathroom, she tossed the test sticks into the trash, bag and all. Just as the lid clicked shut, the door opened behind her, and Joshua walked in.

Shermaine glanced over, lips curving faintly. “Let me guess. You want to save water and shower together again?”

He grinned. “You know me too well.”

“I’m fine with sharing the shower,” she said, straight-faced. “But nothing more than that.”

His throat bobbed at her words, but he didn’t argue. That hadn’t been his intention anyway. “I’ll get the bath started.”

The tub was large, big enough for two, and soon the water was steaming, fragrant with a hint of essential oils. When she stepped in, he reached for her clothes, intending to help her undress.

She caught his hand. “I’ll do it myself.”

The water enveloped her like a warm cocoon. Shermaine leaned back and closed her eyes slightly, soaking in the heat.

“Aren’t you getting in?” she murmured.

Joshua crouched beside the tub, his expression calm but amused. “If I get in now, do you really think we’ll keep our hands to ourselves?” He reached up to gently pinch her cheek. “Sit still. I’ll wash your hair.”

He had never done this for anyone before. Shermaine was the first. Surprisingly, he was good at it. His hands worked through her scalp with just the right amount of pressure, easing tension she didn’t even know she carried. She found herself drifting, eyes heavy with sleep.

Once her hair was done, he moved on to her shoulders and legs, fingers expertly kneading. “Period running late?” he asked.

She gave a faint hum in response, too relaxed to reply.

He didn’t think much of it. Probably stress, he figured, or too many late nights. “Want me to make you some ginger tea later?”

Shermaine opened one eye. “I don’t drink that stuff.” She didn’t add that ginger tea wasn’t ideal for someone who might be pregnant.

“Milk, then?”

She nodded slowly. “And press a little harder on my shoulders.” Her voice was soft, languid, like velvet brushing against skin. It could melt a man’s resolve.

“The water’s cooling,” he said gently. “Let me finish once we’re out.”

He wrapped her in a bath towel and carried her out effortlessly. Living with Joshua made it far too easy to let her guard down.

He dried her hair for her, taking his time. When he leaned in to kiss her, his hands slid across the smooth skin of her back. He lingered, savoring the closeness, but didn’t go any further. After a moment, he pulled away and headed downstairs to pour her a glass of warm milk.

Shermaine curled into the bed, robe slipping off her shoulder. Faint marks from his touch lingered on her skin, and she gave a lazy yawn, looking every bit like a siren basking in her own quiet spell. That Joshua could hold himself back, even when she looked like this, only proved how much she meant to him. If she wasn’t ready, he would never push.

About fifteen minutes later, he returned with the milk. She drank most of it, then nudged him toward the bathroom. “Go shower.”

He nodded and headed inside, only to find Shermaine trailing behind him.

“Sheary,” he turned back, frowning slightly, “you need rest.”

Her fingers reached for the door. She closed it behind them with a soft click. Her gaze was warm, deep, shimmering like moonlight on rippling water. “I do,” she said quietly. “But first… I’d like to take care of something for my husband.”